


Warm me up

by orphan_account



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-30
Updated: 2011-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:03:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sixth form AU. After just a week in England, Arthur already hates it. He's sixteen and has already lived in five different countries since his dad's in the military; now he just wants to go home to Chicago. But when he goes along to a party to meet his new classmates, he meets Eames and figures that England might not be so bad after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm me up

Arthur kind of hates England.

It’s only been a week and his mom keeps insisting that he give it time. Arthur doesn’t want to give it time. He wants to go home, real home: Chicago. Not some random military base in a foreign country.

His dad’s last assignment in Turkey was supposed to be the last one overseas. Arthur was supposed to be going home to finish his last two years of school with friends who barely remember him but were still looking forward to seeing him again. Home, to hotdogs and the Bean and the Art Institute and real pizza. Not to some stupid air force base in the north of England, where it’s cold and it rains all the time.

At least he knows someone. Ariadne is a fellow military brat whose mom was stationed with his dad in Turkey. She’s one of the best friends he’s ever had. They used to spend every Friday night sharing a big tub of ice cream and talking. She’s easy to talk to, Ariadne, and the words always slipped from his lips like soap from wet fingers. Because of that she knows more about him than anyone. She was the first person he came out to and the only one who knows that he’s scared of clowns.

One of the reasons that Ariadne is so good for him is that she makes him go out of his comfort zone. Tonight is a case in point. Arthur would be more than happy to stay at home and read blogs all night but Ariadne is dragging him out. Some kids from the school he’s starting next week are having a party and she says it’ll be a good way for him to meet people. She’s right, of course; she usually is.

Arthur looks in the mirror, trying to decide if he should change his t-shirt, whether he should do something with his hair. He puts a shirt on over his t-shirt, trying to see which looks better, then pulls on a woollen vest. His reflection frowns at his indecision, then jumps as there’s a knock at his bedroom door.

“Yeah?”

Ariadne pokes her head around the door, covering her eyes with a hand, though her fingers are spread apart so it’s an empty gesture.

“You decent?” She asks.

“If I wasn’t I wouldn’t have said ‘yeah’.”

“You look really cute,” she says, beaming at him. Arthur looks back at his reflection. He’s fairly sure he looks stupid, and moves to take off his vest. Ariadne bats his hands away. “Stop it. You look good.”

She tugs his shirt out of his jeans and unbuttons his top buttons so that the stripy tee can be seen underneath, then nods, satisfied and turns him to look into the mirror. Right again; it does look pretty good.

They head downstairs. Ariadne pauses at the bottom and looks at him seriously.

“You have to be nice, okay?” She says.

“And why’s that?”

“First, because you want to make a good first impression. And second, the guys throwing the party are the boy I like and his twin brother.”

“Twins?” Twin boys sound... very nice. Especially if they're English. So far the only thing that Arthur likes about England is the accent and he likes that a lot.

“Yes, twins.” Ariadne gives him an amused smile. “His name is Tom and I don’t want you scaring him off.” She gives him a strange look that he can’t quite pin down, all dipped eyebrows and bitten lip. “Besides, I think you’ll like his brother.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because he’s hot,” Ariadne says, grinning and throwing off her momentary strangeness. She pats his shoulder. “Arthur, just relax. Have fun, get to know people, okay? And don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re not left on your own.”

A few times back in Turkey she said that but when it came to a boy she liked all bets were off. Arthur just hopes she introduces him to at least a few people before she spies this Tom.

Ariadne’s dad drives them. As they leave suburbia, they enter the realm of flat fields and clumps of trees. They pull up to a set of iron gates and Ariadne’s dad speaks to someone on the intercom. Arthur starts to wonder where the hell they are. The gates open and as the car drives up the longest driveway Arthur has ever seen, he stares. The house is – it’s a fucking mansion.

He’s still staring as he gets out of the car and Ariadne laughs at him.

“Come on, Arthur. Anyone would think you’d never been to an English country house for underage drinking before.”

The feeling of unreality only gets worse when the door is opened by a man in a black suit and tie who bows to them.

"Miss Ariadne, it's good to see you again. I assume you know where the party is?"

"Yeah, thanks Alfred," she says and heads up a wide staircase in a vast and well-lit hall, a huge blue dome in the ceiling overhead. Arthur’s never been in a house like this, at least not one that people actually lived in. Places like this charge for admission and sell overpriced pencils in the gift shop.

He hurries up the stairs after her.

"Was that a butler?" Arthur hisses, and Ariadne grins at him. "Seriously, I didn't think this sort of shit was real. I thought British people only had butlers on TV."

"In case you couldn't tell from the house, the Eameses aren't exactly average British people."

Arthur's brain is suddenly filled with images of snooty British kids sneering at his dumb American ways but he pushes them away. He doesn't think that Ariadne is the type of person to fall for someone like that. Though she is a sucker for a pretty face.

The hallway they walk down is decorated with a fussy, floral-patterned paper. In dark wooden frames are portraits of men and women in old-fashioned dress, and Arthur is struck by how much this reminds him of the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland.

As he follows Ariadne he gawks, feeling like an idiot but unable to stop himself. The last thing he expected tonight was this – he thought it'd be a semi-detached house like the one his family is living in, watching TV or playing video games. God knows what they’re going to do – this kind of house seems more appropriate for ballroom dances or clay-pigeon shooting than TV.

When they pass through the door at the end of the hall, it’s a little disappointing to see a largish room with about twenty kids Arthur’s age, dressed in regular clothes – no tweed in sight. There is a TV – admittedly huge – on which some kids are playing _Medal of Honour_. The only thing remotely out of place is the large selection of alcohol and the snacks that are rather more upmarket than Doritos and dip.

"Ari!" Arthur looks up to see a guy approaching: Arthur's age, with light brown hair falling into his eyes. He has ludicrously full lips – he looks exactly like what Arthur would think of if someone said 'male model'. Arthur is instantly and devastatingly attracted to him.

This is not good.

"Hey, Eames," Ariadne says but she's distracted. She keeps looking to the corner of the room where a guy is talking to a pretty blonde girl. Since he looks exactly like the guy in front of them – Eames – the guy in the corner must be Tom. Obviously he's as hot as Eames is though he's dressed a little smarter; preppy to Eames’s two-decades-too-late-grunge-look. The blonde he's with is definitely flirting with him and Arthur's in danger of going all big-brother-protective on Ariadne's behalf, which is dumb because a) Tom and Ariadne aren't even dating and b) Tom isn't flirting back at all.

But then Arthur notices the way Eames is looking at him and all thoughts of the brother are forgotten. He's looking at Arthur with this crooked grin and he looks surprised, but in a good way, like he's found an unexpected twenty in his back pocket.

"You're Arthur?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Ariadne told us about you but -" he stops and Arthur really would like to know what he was going to say next; but Tom must have felt Ariadne's laser-glare because he's here and the blonde is still in the corner, glaring at Ariadne.

"Ari," he says, just as Eames did, but he also gives her a quick hug. Just before he steps back they look into each other's eyes and both of them blush, smiling shyly. Just like that, they're both completely oblivious to the world around them.

"So you just moved here, right?" Eames says, and when Arthur looks at him he has this lazy, lopsided smile that makes Arthur lick his lips.

"Yeah. I've been here a week."

"You like it?"

Arthur looks at the floor, not wanting to offend Eames's country but unable to say anything nice about it. Eames just laughs and pats his shoulder.

"We've been having shit weather," he says. "It's not always this bad, honest."

"It's not really that," Arthur says and shrugs. "It's just, we were supposed to be going home this time – to Chicago. And we just move somewhere new. Again."

"You know what? You need a drink," Eames says, putting his arm across Arthur's shoulders – the touch making Arthur’s skin tingle under his shirt – and guiding him to the table. There's an impressive selection, including lots of spirits Arthur's never even heard of, so he grabs a beer to be safe. He's not a big drinker – underage drinking isn't exactly easy when you've spent the last few years of your life in an army barracks – so beer is probably the best option. He takes a swig. It's not bad, so he takes another long drink.

Eames grabs a new bottle for himself and nods over to where Tom and Ariadne are still doing a terrible job of flirting with each other.

"They've been doing this for months," he says. "Since before summer. It's so obvious they like each other but they won't bloody do anything."

"I don't understand why it's so difficult to just say you like someone," Arthur says, glancing at Eames. "I mean, you should just be able to say – hey, you're cute. Wanna make out? Or something."

Eames smiles at him, raising his eyebrows, and he nods. "Yeah. But it's not that easy, is it? You say that and you sound like a tosser."

"It should be that easy, though." It's not like Arthur has much experience with having to tell anyone that he likes them – and certainly not much experience in making out – precisely because it’s not easy. "I mean. It's just kissing, right?" He runs his hand through his hair. He can already feel the beer affecting him. Such a lightweight.

"Yes, but what if they say no? Or what if it affects your friendship?" Eames points at Tom and Ariadne. "That's what they're thinking. They don't want to spoil things."

"But what if you don't have a friendship?" Arthur says, finishing his beer and tossing it in the recycling with the other empties. He grabs another bottle. "Like you and me."

Eames's grin turns absolutely wicked. "I don't know if I should be more upset that you're saying we're not friends, or happy that you appear to be saying you want to kiss me."

Arthur squints at him. That’s not what he said, but he does. Those lips are made for kissing. Amongst other things. For a moment Arthur sways between snapping at him and flirting back. Since he does, in fact, want to kiss Eames but isn’t too good with flirting he says, "We're not friends. We met five minutes ago."

"We're drinking together,” Eames says, clinking their bottles. “That makes us friends. Seriously though, the other bit. The kissing bit."

Looks like Eames isn't going to drop it. Not that Arthur's surprised – he wouldn't either. He should just be grateful that Eames hasn't punched him for the accidental flirting. Half the beer from the second bottle is gone in one swig while Arthur formulates an answer. "Well. We hardly know each other, do we?"

Eames laughs and pats Arthur's shoulder. "I'm fairly sure you just answered your own question there." He pushes himself up from where he's leaning on the table. "Come on. I'll introduce you."

Nearly everyone at the party is going to the same high school – sixth form, Eames corrects him – as Arthur. Most of them are English though there are another two American guys. They're kind of cute but in the typical American clean-cut, straight-teeth kind of way and that doesn't interest Arthur at all. Not that he only ever looks at people in terms of whether or not he wants to kiss them. It's just – what with the conversation he just had with Eames, and looking at Eames’s lips, Arthur’s mind is kind of focused on one thing.

Most people are nice but there are cliques here as much as there are in any school. This is the first off-base high school Arthur's gone to so it's interesting to see that the same groups form with English people as they do with Americans. It’s like _Mean Girls_ with different accents.

"Eames!" A guy calls from the sofa where a group of kids are lounging with game controllers in their hands. "It's your turn, come on."

Arthur's not met anyone here that he likes as much as Eames – okay, honestly, anyone he thinks is as hot as Eames – so he goes to watch him play. He's not bad, better than the others, but Arthur knows he's better. He's put hours of work into this game when he should have been sleeping. So when one of the other guys is killed, Arthur reaches out a hand for the controller.

"My turn," he says.

The kid turns around and looks at him, then shrugs and hands him the controller.

Eames looks up at him with a cocky smirk. "If you want your arse kicked, Arthur, please feel free."

"We'll see who's going to kick whose ass," Arthur says, climbing over the back of the sofa to vacate the space the other kid left. The space is right next to Eames and it means that Arthur's pressed right up against him, shoulder to knee. It makes Arthur feel warm and a little breathless. If he just turned his head, he thinks, he could kiss Eames right now.

Beating him at a video game is more appropriate for public viewing but it's not as easy as Arthur was expecting. When he was playing with the others Eames was obviously holding back. They're both leaning forward, intensity high. A small crowd gathers around them, taking sides. Since no-one knows who Arthur is most of them are on Eames's side; that just makes Arthur even more determined to win and will make victory that much sweeter.

Fresh beers are pressed into their hands when they finish one. There are whoops as their characters shoot or get hit but both he and Eames stay quiet, focused on their game.

It's a tough competition but it ends the way Arthur knew it would. Killshot, right between Eames's character's eyes.

Eames throws his hands into the air, groaning, and drops his controller on the table.

"Alright," Eames says, throwing his arm over Arthur's shoulders. Heat instantly covers Arthur's cheeks and he hopes the four beers he's had are enough to blame that on. "So you were right. I underestimated you."

"You should be careful with that," Arthur says and when he turns to look at Eames they're just inches apart. His eyes are instantly drawn to those lips and he stares for a few seconds too long. When he looks up he catches Eames looking at his lips and wonders if maybe, just maybe, Eames wants to kiss him too.

"You know what we were saying earlier?" Eames says.

"Yeah," Arthur says, hoping that they're talking about the same thing.

"You want to... go and talk about it some more? Somewhere with a little privacy?" There’s a thread of hesitation in his voice and in his eyes; and the show of vulnerability makes Arthur smile. If Eames had been cocky when he said that Arthur would probably have said no, however much he wanted to. He can't stand arrogance.

As they head to the door, the crowd that had been watching them play is caught up in a cloud of whispers. Arthur wonders if he’s misreading this; if Eames even likes boys; if the rest of the school knows.

One thing he knows is that if he hadn't been drinking he wouldn't be doing this. It’s not that he minds kissing a boy he hardly knows – not that it’s a habit, he’s kissed all of four boys in his life (and two girls but they don’t really count). And he can’t pass up the opportunity to make out with someone as gorgeous as Eames. The thing is, since these kids are probably not complete morons he’s about to make a reputation for himself before he even starts at his new school.

Still. Kissing Eames. That’s the important bit.

As they leave the room, Eames grabs his hand and leads him through a door about ten feet away. It has old-fashioned furniture and décor that’s every bit as Haunted Mansion as the hallway. All of those thoughts instantly slip away when Eames takes his other hand and pulls him close.

Arthur grins at him. He wants to touch Eames, to slide his hands onto his hips. And – why not, he thinks in a burst of confidence. Why not?

It’s worth it for the smile Eames gives him, surprised and delighted in turns. Eames has the best smile. Anything, really, that involves his lips. Like- well. Like what they’re supposedly here to talk about.

“So,” Arthur says, because he has his hands on Eames’s hips so he might as well continue pushing his luck. “You’re cute. Wanna make out?”

Eames laughs – jesus, is there anything about this guy that isn’t sexy? “I was wrong about that, too,” he says, leaning closer so that Arthur can feel his breath on his lips.

“What?”

“About that line making you sound like a tosser. It doesn’t. At all. It’s hot.”

“You think I’m hot?”

“’s not what I said,” Eames starts, then grins. “But yeah. I do.” And then he closes those last few inches and presses his lips to Arthur’s.

Arthur’s eyes flutter shut as he kisses back; a few pecks then he opens his mouth, the kiss going wet and indecent in seconds. It’s not a big surprise to find that Eames is a good kisser. Someone this good-looking isn’t going to be short of people to practice on. An irrational jealousy is smothered; Arthur gets to benefit from Eames’s experience, after all.

Eames slides his tongue between Arthur’s lips. Arthur lets him lap into his mouth for a few seconds before retaliating and pushing his way into Eames’s mouth, licking tongue and uneven teeth and gorgeous full lips.

It’s good, really fucking good and he’s getting hard, which might be embarrassing if he couldn’t feel Eames getting hard too, pressed close against him like he is. Instead it makes Arthur feel confident, makes him feel like he’s floating – Eames, with his model good looks and money, he could have anyone he wanted but he’s getting a hard-on kissing Arthur.

Angling his head, Arthur slides his lips over Eames, slick and hot. Eames tastes of beer and chocolate, smells of some vaguely exotic aftershave that’s probably a hell of a lot more expensive than Arthur’s ck one and his hair is soft when Arthur runs his fingers through it. Touch-hungry he goes in search of more skin and sneaks his hand under the hem of Eames’s plaid shirt.

That makes Eames give an honest-to-goodness moan and the sound makes Arthur shudder.

He wants _more_ , he doesn’t know what, only that this isn’t enough. He pulls back, breathing heavy, and glances over Eames’s shoulder. There’s a couch against the wall – a ridiculous green-velvet-and-gilt thing that’s probably a hundred years old. With his hands on Eames’s chest he pushes him backwards and Eames drops down onto it when the back of his knees hit the cushions.

He looks up at Arthur with expectant eyes, Arthur drops down and straddles him with his knees either side of Eames’s hips.

There’s no thought involved in this – if Arthur let himself think then there would be no way he would be doing this. It’s all instinct and from Eames’s wide-eyed, smiling reaction, Arthur’s instincts are dead on.

They fall into the kiss again and Eames pushes his hips up so that their hard-ons rub together. Both of them moan this time but they don’t break the kiss. Eames’s hands are on his waist and they slide around to his ass so that he can grind against Arthur better.

That’s so good that Arthur is completely and utterly focused on the physical like he’s never been before – no stray thoughts or annoyances, only Eames’s mouth; his hard dick rubbing up against his; the warm hands kneading his ass.

So when a loud burst of music interrupts their quiet moans and gasps, he jerks back, startled, and can’t understand what the noise is.

“Phone,” Eames says, and it takes another few seconds for Arthur to register that it’s his own phone. He fishes it out of his pocket and stares at it. Ariadne. It occurs to him that it’s probably bad etiquette to answer your phone in the middle of an intense make-out session but the mood has already been broken, shattered into a million pieces by the wailing of Morrissey.

Completely disorientated – too disorientated to be pissed off yet – he answers the call. “Yeah?”

“Arthur, where _are_ you? Dom said you went off somewhere with Eames.”

“Yeah, we’re.” Arthur stops because he doesn’t know where he is. He runs a hand through his hair and smiles down at Eames who’s got this big, lazy Cheshire-cat grin. “In a room. Somewhere.”

“What do you mean ‘in a room’? What are you doing?” She pauses. “No way. _No_. You don’t do this kind of thing. You’re an uptight-“

“Not uptight,” Arthur interrupts and then kisses Eames as if to prove it.

“You’re making out with him. Oh my god. It’s only been a year since we were in school together, how did you go from goody-two-shoes to making out with random boys in a year?”

“He’s not random. You wanna do his brother. He can’t be that bad.”

Eames laughs at that and then pulls Arthur down for more kisses. Arthur wraps his arms around Eames’s neck and can hear Ariadne squawking from the phone which dangles from his fingers. Whether it’s the alcohol or just the buzz of being with Eames, Arthur’s not sure but he’s relaxed and happy and – well, maybe Ariadne’s right, a little bit. Maybe he is uptight sometimes. But here, right now? He feels fantastic.

“Arthur!” Ariadne yells down the phone and Arthur can hear her from the hallway too. She sounds like she’s on the verge of getting angry and no-one likes Ariadne when she’s angry.

“What?” Arthur says but he doesn’t move far; his lips brush against Eames’s as he asks the question.

“My dad’s going to get here in about two minutes. So wherever you are, get your ass out here now.”

Arthur hangs up and gives Eames a last, lingering kiss before pushing himself to his feet.

“You going?”

“Not much choice,” Arthur says, shrugging. He offers his hands to Eames and pulls him up, smiling when Eames’s arms curl around him.

“Don’t want you to go,” Eames says as he kisses down Arthur’s neck.

“Oh, yeah,” Arthur says, chuckling. “I can just see my mom’s reaction to me telling her I’m staying over with some boy I just met.”

“A hot boy though.”

“Your lack of humility is charming, Eames.”

Eames sighs and lets his hands drop from Arthur’s waist and he waves at the door instead. Arthur’s reaching for the handle before he turns to smile at Eames, his shyness finally rearing its head.

“I - had fun.”

“Me too,” Eames says. “But come on, it’s not like we’re never going to see each other again. I’ll see you on Monday. And you owe me a rematch.”

“Only if you want to lose again.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“I- should go. Ari can be a bitch when she’s angry.”

“I know,” Eames says, sneaking another kiss as he reaches around Arthur for the door handle. “You should have seen her when I got a better mark than she did in English.”

In the hallway, Ariadne and Tom are about ten feet away. By the looks of it they’re still tip-toeing around each other and Arthur feels a tingle of mean delight that he got further with one of the Eames twins tonight that she did.

Ariadne focuses a death-glare on Arthur then marches up to him and grabs his wrist.

“We’re leaving,” she says and starts to drag him away. Arthur lets her, grinning at Eames and waving to him and Tom.

In the car, Ariadne folds her arms and scowls out of the window for a few moments before her curiosity outweighs her annoyance. She leans over and whispers so her dad won’t hear.

“You really made out with him?”

A grin leaps instantly to Arthur’s face and he nods. “Yeah. And it was awesome.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “What happened to my lovely, innocent Arthur?”

“Come on, Ari. You can’t be mad at me for liking the twin brother of the guy you have a crush on.”

“Yeah, and do you know how many times I’ve kissed Tom? Twice. For like ten seconds. How long were you alone with Eames?”

“Um. About twenty minutes? Thirty?”

She makes a high-pitched noise and hits him in the shoulder before scowling out of the window again.

The rest on the journey to Arthur’s house is taken up with a long list of kids that are going to be at school on Monday – who to be nice to, who to avoid. It’s the sort of thing he should probably pay attention to but he’s having trouble thinking about anything other than the kiss.

When the car pulls up outside Arthur’s house, he turns to Ariadne and smiles, only to get a frown in return. “Hey,” he says softly. “Are we okay?”

She sighs and gives him a hug. “Yeah. I’m just jealous. Go on, get out. I’ll see you on Monday, okay?”

“Have a good night,” he says as he gets out of the car.

“You’ve already had one,” she says, before he shuts the door.

He’s hoping that he can sneak up the stairs and go to his bedroom and think about Eames while doing something about his insistent erection but his mom calls him from the living room.

“Arthur, honey, is that you?”

“Yeah, mom.”

“Come in here,” she says, and Arthur tugs down his shirt and shoves his hands in his pockets to hide the way he’s tenting his jeans.

Compared to the Eameses’ Haunted Mansion, their living room is kind of boring. His mom is sat on the sofa and she smiles at him, patting the seat beside her. Arthur really, really wants to go to his bedroom but refusing will only cause problems. Best to keep his answers short.

“Did you have fun tonight?”

“Yeah, it was great.”

“Did you meet some people you’ll be in class with?”

“Yeah. A few.”

“Anyone special?” Maybe that sounds a little creepy but both his parents have been worried about him not dating. It’s kind of hard when you live on a military compound with guys who are too worried about their macho image to even consider kissing another boy, no matter how much they want to.

Arthur pauses, not sure which answer will get him out of here quicker. He decides on the truth because a ‘no’ will probably land him a lecture about being more outgoing.

“Yeah, actually. His name’s Eames.”

“That’s wonderful! Tell me about him.”

“He’s English; he likes video games; he’s smart; he’s got a twin brother. His family lives in this huge mansion out in the sticks. He’s – he’s cute.” That pretty amounts to his total of Eames-knowledge other than ‘he’s a really good kisser’ and ‘we nearly made each other come on an antique sofa’, neither of which are suitable topics for conversation with his mom.

“He sounds sweet, Arthur. You should bring him round for dinner sometime. We can show him some American cooking.”

“I only met him three hours ago, Mom,” he says, trying not to roll his eyes.

“But you like him?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s great.” His mom is grinning, showing the dimples he inherited from her. “Arthur-“

“I know, Mom. I really like him, okay? But I want to get to know him a bit before we start meeting parents.”

“I just want you to be happy,” she says, touching his cheek.

“I am,” he says. “I’m going to go to bed, okay?” He says, and doesn’t even make a fuss when she insists on kissing his cheek.

And he is happy. Even if on Monday it turns out that Eames is a jerk, right now Arthur is smiling and happy and England doesn’t seem so bad anymore after tonight.


End file.
